much of
that white familiar of his, Nevil Steyne. By Jove, I wish we could fix
something on that man and get the government to deport him. He's got a
great sway over the chief. What the devil is his object?" Jimmy Parker's
face flushed under his exasperation.

"I'd give a heap to git a cinch on him," Seth replied thoughtfully. "He's
smart. His tracks are covered every time. Howsum, if things git doin' this
spring, I've a notion we'll run him down mebbe--later."

The Agent was all interest.

"Have you discovered anything?"

"Wal--nothin' that counts your way. It's jest personal, 'tween him an'
me."

The other laughed cheerfully.

"Couldn't be better," he exclaimed. "I'd sooner it depended on you than on
the government."

Seth let the tribute pass.

"We must locate them Sun-dances," he said.

"Yes. We've got troops enough to stop them."

"Troops?--pshaw!"

Seth rose. Parker understood his last remark. The presence of troops had
long since been discussed between them. The visitor moved toward the door,
and the Agent went to his desk. At the door Seth turned as some thought
occurred to him.

"Guess I'd not report anything yet. Not till the Sun-dances are located.
I'll git around some." He slipped into his fur coat and turned up the
storm collar.

Parker nodded.

"Keep a smart eye for yourself, Seth," he said. "Little Black Fox isn't
likely to forget. Especially with Steyne around."

Seth smiled faintly.

"And Steyne 'll kind o' remember, sure." He passed out and left his sturdy
friend wondering.

"I'd give something to know," that individual said to himself, when the
sound of horse's hoofs had died out. "Seth's dead against Steyne, and I'd
like to bet it's over Rosebud."

The object of the Agent's thoughts passed unconcernedly on his way. He
branched off the ford trail intending to make for the bridge, below which
his men were cutting the timbers for the corral. His way was remote from
the chief encampment, and not a single Indian showed himself.

The skeleton woods that lined the trail gave a desolate air to the bleak,
white prospect. The whole of that northern world offered little promise to
the traveler, little inducement to leave the warmth of house or tepee.

As the horseman neared the bridge he paused to listen. Something of his
attitude communicated itself to his horse. The animal's ears were laid
back, and it seemed to be listening to some sound behind it. Whatever had
attracted master an